Save Me Before It Goes Black
by killjoyamira
Summary: I'd much rather be awake than asleep now. At least then I can get away from the real world and go into mine. The drugs don't even work anymore and everybody I love has left me. So this is my note. To you all this is my goodbye note. Tell everyone I'm sorry and this was all my fault. -SH


_I'd much rather be awake than asleep now. At least then I can get away from the real world and go into mine. The drugs don't even work anymore and everybody I love has left me. So this is my note. To you all this is my goodbye note. Tell everyone I'm sorry and this was all my fault. -SH_

It was the 3rd of March 2015 and everything was normal. Nothing different, nothing exciting. He lay there on the sofa staring at the ceiling, fixated. He placed the needle on his arm looking for a place to press it in making puncture holes down his arm until he found the perfect spot. There was a sigh of relief as he pushed it in and I just turned away. The way he could harm himself in such way was so stupid. People die because of drug accidents and he's putting his knowledge on the line just to get a kick. I should of said something, I'd witnessed this so many times before but my opinion wouldn't matter to him. I was an idiot and he was the great Sherlock Holmes.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, however his face was directed to the needle not me.

"Who are you talking to?"

"You, obviously."

"Well you weren't looking at me."

"There's nobody else in the room John, stop trying to cause a argument when there is nothing to argue about." I sighed standing up.

There was something to argue about. The way he never leaves the house anymore. The way he hardly ever speaks to me. The way he never works. The way he never eats. The way he'll stay in his room for weeks not speaking to anyone. The way he cries when he thinks he's alone when actually I'm still here. The way he doesn't care about anyone but himself but that's always been the same. He's changed and it's not him changing himself, it's the drugs changing him.

"You're disappointed in me aren't you?" He asked as he pursed his lips.

"A little, yes." I replied as honestly as possible.

"I don't know who you are anymore." He sat up and placed the needle on the table.

"You never knew me in the first place."

His response was utter bullshit. Some lie he made up to act like he knew much more than me. He doesn't actually know how much I do know about him. All the little details, like how when he does take drugs he has to get the angle of the needle exactly 83 degrees as he whispers it to himself one time before he does it. The way that when he showers he gets dressed in the bathroom and when I asked once he replied with there's scars he's ashamed to show. I remember little things like this and he accuses me over not knowing who he is and what he stands for. Bullshit.

"I'll be in my room." He muttered, standing up, stretching his long legs and not even bothering to move the needle that could of hurt someone.

"How long for?" He looked at me slightly confused but more wondering why I even cared. I don't think he knows that people care about him. It's one of his main problems.

"Last time I didn't see you for 6 days. You stayed in your room for 6 days and wouldn't speak to anyone only when you needed food or a drink. I can't even remember seeing you go to the toilet."

"I went when you weren't here."

"What is wrong with you? Is it me? Have I done something to upset you? You've been like this ever since...The wedding. Is it Mary?"

"Mary's fine."

"What's wrong then?"

"There is nothing wrong with me." He shouted slightly walking to his room. "I'll be out in an hour. If you want to know that badly."

As he went into his room he slammed the door behind him and began to search for something else. Something stronger and he took out 3 needles all containing different types of drugs. Now to him work wasn't the answer, this was. This was his life now. One day he just gave up and he's been like it ever since. He put them in one after another tears starting to fill his eyes. You'd never know if he's actually crying a lot, usually he'd say it's a side affect of the drugs.

"Sherlock we need to talk about this."

"I don't want to." His voice broke half way and he dropped onto his bed.

"Please." I begged sitting outside of his door. If he knew my presence was here he might change his mind and come out. He didn't respond and after 5 minutes and my back starting to get numb I decided to leave.

"I'm going out."

He lay there on the bed lifeless and he had decided and now nothing was going to change his mind. He called out John's name a few times and left his bedroom making final checks. He quickly grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled down a note leaving it on the table. After this he gingerly walked into the bathroom, filling the bath with warm water and he slowly took off his shirt skimming his hand over the bullet-mark just above his heart. As the water nearly reached the top of the bath he slowly got in with the rest of his clothes on and sunk down to the bottom.

As John made his way back in the taxi he received a message from Mycroft;

_I need Sherlock's help. Get him to message me._

John placed the phone back in his pocket and as the taxi reached the flat he gave the money and walked inside.

"Sherlock, Mycroft wants you."

Strange, no response. Sherlock would usually make a joke about how Mycroft needs to get better at looking after his country and while he's at it get on top of that diet.

"Sherlock?" John shouted out a few times. He then knew something was wrong. He walked round the rooms and started to become more frantic. Sherlock never left the flat so why would he have now?

"Mrs Hudson, has Sherlock left?"

"No dear." That's when he saw it. After looking in every room he came to the locked bathroom door. He knocked first but with no response he had to start to try and break down the door. It took a few attempts but he finally got the door down. That's when he saw the lifeless body buried under the water. Without even giving it a second thought he ran over to Sherlock and pulled him out of the water and lying him on the floor. "Mrs Hudson quick!" He screamed. She took her time coming up the stairs whilst John tried to check for signs of life.

"What's wrong?"

"Phone an ambulance, it's Sherlock."

The note was found a few days after Sherlock had been pronounced dead it read;

_'I'd much rather be awake than asleep now. At least then I can get away from the real world and go into mine. The drugs don't even work anymore and everybody I love has left me. So this is my note. To you all this is my goodbye note. Tell everyone I'm sorry and this was all my fault. -SH'_

But this time John wasn't upset because he thought Sherlock was tricking him once again, or he'd perform a miracle and pull through. Mary had tried to talk him round but he wouldn't listen. John never went to Baker Street again and he threw away every memory of Sherlock he could possibly find. He tried to delete every memory of him because he felt it was his fault. He wasn't there for Sherlock. He could of stopped it happening. However, one day a few years after the death John was walking through the park pushing his little girl round when he felt a piece of paper fall down to his feet. As he picked it up he read the words jotted down.

_'You're still falling for these tricks I see Watson. See you soon. -SH'_


End file.
